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Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Review: If It We

Lisa Zaran’s collection If It We serves largely as a meditation on her son’s addiction to
heroin. Perhaps because she dwells on the subject a great deal, Zaran never
gives the reader a sunny look at an addict’s life. In “Non Action,” she
describes what I imagine any hostile drug to feel like: “Leave no capillary standing. No nerve unharmed. / Find the nothing
that is. The no more.” Brutal, all-consuming, and dark.” In this way, she
envisions her son’s pain. More heart-rending, though, is how Zaran approaches
his physical deterioration. “Scene, You Are” describes the physical
characteristics of a heroin addict in a way that sounds familiar to those who
have seen such drug-fueled films as Trainspotting
and Requiem for a Dream--“skinny as a
rake, sallow / complexion”--as does “Path of Affection”: “and your lips / are
chapped as if / you passed out // during a mid-afternoon / ice storm.” But
these verbal pictures hit you with renewed impact because the words are coming
from someone who has been forced to watch the decline of this young junkie; the
images Zaran has seen end up haunting the reader, as well.

Throughout the
course of this collection, we feel Zaran’s desperation, such as when she
writes, in “Morning,” that “The sky inside my mind can’t hold much more.” We
also learn that she herself is an addict, though a different type than her son:
one consumed with the state in which her son lives (or, more accurately,
exists), preoccupied with his obsession, unwilling to detach herself from him
no matter the emotional cost. This is not a criticism; rather, it is an
observer learning second-hand what a mother’s love does to her, unable to look
away and tumbling down with parent and child, an unintended third wheel.

In general, Zaran
seems to be searching for answers more than she tries to place blame. “Can You
Tell Me” lists a few of her questions, including, “Can you tell me, my little
frame / of devotion, what white water / has come along, unexpectedly, / and
covered you from me?” She also remembers, in “God Bless,” that “my father once
said, we’re all damned darling,” which is an unfortunate but accurate response
to her inquiries.

In spite of this,
Zaran is blessed with glimmers of hope here and there. In “Reason,” the opening
poem, she writes of her son, “Soon
he will outlive the birds, outlive the limbs supporting the birds, outlive me,
his mother, a storm-worn dove;” though it is more a statement of fact than a
wishful thought, it conveys a sense of how much she loves her son even after
the trials she’s suffered at his hands, and a certain amount of faith in his
ability to recover.

My personal
favorite moment in If It We, however,
is the poem “Ointment.” It is a departure from other pieces in the book,
because Zaran takes time to focus on herself rather than those around her
(particularly her son). It is a wonderful little pep talk, coming at just the
right time for the reader--and, I think, the poet: when the heaviness of
addiction and self-doubt begins to settle around you.